The Purple Files
by ginOO7
Summary: The origination of the infamous "Purple Files" started, innocently enough, with one Centauri ambassadorial aide.


Vir rubbed his palms against his trousers, and he felt a trickle of sweat running down his back. He looked down at the hallway floor, studying the Babylon station's carpet as he twisted his hands nervously.

"VIRRRRRRR!"

Vir's shoulders jerked upwards at the sound of the Centauri ambassador's roar on the other side of the door, and, at long last, Vir tentatively stepped through the door.

There was an unmistakable look of displeasure on Londo's face. Vir cringed, wondering if he could melt into one of the corners of the ambassador's suite until the ambassador's mood passed.

"Well, what is it, Vir?" Londo demanded. "Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"Um," Vir glanced back at the door, confusion causing him to stutter. "I-I thought _you_ called _me_," he turned his palms up with a half-smile.

The ambassador stood up, pointing to Vir with the diplomatic communiqués in his hand. "You have been standing outside my door for ten minutes. So, I ask you again, _what _is it?"

Vir glanced back at the door, perceiving that there must be a hidden camera attached to it, "Oh." He took a step back, "You saw me? I didn't realize that – I mean – um . . . ." his voice trailed off weakly. "I didn't mean to bother you, I'll just come back when it's a better time." He turned quickly for the door, trying to make his escape.

"Vir!" Londo's voice stopped Vir in his tracks, and he turned back to the ambassador.

Londo scowled, "Our other diplomatic missions have footmen, protocol specialists, couriers, tailors, chefs, negotiators, political attachés, economists, consular officers, poison specialists, schedulers, travel agents, managers, a whole department of public affairs coordinators, and the occasional royal spy. But homeworld didn't send any of them to this backwater bucket of bolts, did they? So what do _I _have? I have _you._ Everything else," he gestured toward the revolving station beyond his quarters with a flourish of his wrist, "is up to me. There isn't going to _be _a better time until this unfortunate detour in my career is over. So, I ask you again, _what_ is it?"

Vir twisted his hands again, his teeth rattling against each other as his eyes returned to the floor. "I lost something."

"Well," Londo waved dismissively, "go and find it then."

"No," Vir looked up, "I mean, I lost something _important_, and I-I need your help."

Londo placed his diplomatic communiqués aside, his irritation fading as he saw the younger man's distress.

"If-if we don't find it," Vir continued, "it will cause everyone a great deal of embarrassment – the station, Captain Sheridan, Lyta, Talia, Marcus, Dr. Franklin, Ambassador Kosh, Commander Ivanova, Ambassador Delenn, Ambassador G'Kar—"

"—will it?" Londo said, a grin spreading over his features. "Embarrassment, you say?"

"Even you," Vir added, his eyes desperate, "among others."

"Me?" Londo's smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. "All right, tell me what this thing is that you have lost, and I will see what I can do about it."

* * *

Lennier glanced at the pages at his elbow for the umpteenth time in as many minutes. He was sitting at a restaurant near the Zocolo where he often met with Vir, and he was slowly nursing his third glass of water. _Surely_, he thought, it must have been Vir that had left the pages at his elbow, but every time he glanced at them, he could see the word "_Delenn_" scrawled in a thick jumble of words.

Lennier templed his thumbs deep in thought. His primary duty on Babylon 5 was to serve Delenn and Minbari interests. What if the Centauri were spying on her? What if they had uncovered sensitive Minbari information?

Conflicted by his sense of duty, Lennier gathered up the papers, already determined to return them to their rightful owner, but indecision flashed again in his mind. He would never be able to forgive himself if he failed in his duty to Delenn. His eyes scanned the papers quickly, but as his eyes fell upon the words, his mouth gaped open. _"Sheridan?"_ he mouthed, his shoulders slumping. He blinked several times before delicately turning the page. He turned another and another, and before long, he was lost in the pages.

"Lennier," Delenn's friendly voice arrested his intensive reading. "What are you doing here?" she asked him inquisitively, looking around the crowded restaurant.

Lennier stood up abruptly, pushing the papers behind himself. He noticed Captain Sheridan at her side, and Lennier strategically placed himself between Delenn and the file before templing his thumbs and bowing to the duo. "Ambassador Delenn, Captain Sheridan—"

"Lennier," her voice fell, a note of disapproval evident as her eyes glanced over his shoulder. "Were you not able to deliver the signed requisitions to Captain Sheridan's office this afternoon?"

"Yes, Ambassador, I delivered them to Commander Ivanova—" Lennier said quietly in the din of the restaurant as he glanced at the papers. "Oh – that's not them – that's . . . ."

"That's O.K.," Sheridan reached around the Minibari acolyte, not hearing his response in the crowded restaurant. He grasped the papers with a grin, "No need to run around the whole station when I'm right here."

Sheridan glanced at the papers, but as he read, his expression changed and the smile faded before he glanced at Lennier with a strange expression.

"What is it, John?" Delenn leaned over, glancing at the file, but as she read, her eyes grew larger and larger, and her cheeks blushed.

Sheridan turned the page but immediately closed the file again. "I think I'd better confiscate these," he said, frowning at Lennier, his expression hardening, and his tone cold.

"They're not mine," Lennier protested, but he could see the disapproval behind Delenn's eyes. His heart fell into anguish, and, remembering the file he had just read, his eyes flashed at the sight of John Sheridan's retreating back.

* * *

Ambassador Mollari walked into Captain Sheridan's office, Zack Allen at his side. "Captain," he began, "I have reason to believe you have seized material belonging to the Centauri Republic."

Sheridan half-laughed, pointing at the files. "These are yours?" He shook his head as he muttered, "I should have known" under his breath.

"Not _mine_," Mollari straightened to his full height, "the property of the Centauri Republic."

"There are things in here – personal things," Sheridan waved at the stack of papers.

Mollari smiled hollowly, the smile not reaching his eyes, "Perhaps," he said. "But they are property of the Centauri Republic, and they should not be inspected without prior authorization. Therefore, I must insist—"

"Insist?" Sheridan shook his head. "I can't be responsible for what could happen on this station if this gets out. This is a security matter."

Londo inclined his head, "I'm afraid," he repeated, "that these documents are protected under the treaty protocols that formed this station."

Sheridan pointed at the file, "There are sensitive things in there that no one could know – about practically every person on this station. And probably off the station too, I'll bet."

"Whether the material is true or not," Londo withdrew a letter embossed with the royal seal from his coat and waved it in front of Sheridan, "it is the duly protected property of the Centauri Republic under immunity of the diplomatic pouch, and I must insist that the files be returned to my care at once." He stepped forward, gathering up the papers.

"If Ivanova gets ahold of this, you'll only have _one_ left, if you're lucky," Sheridan said under his breath.

Londo stepped back, a sheepish look appearing on his face as he patted his sides, reassuring himself everything was still in its proper place. "There's no need for the Commander to know what is in the files, Captain," the Centauri Ambassador said, his voice strained. "You have every assurance that I will ensure these files are secured from prying eyes."

"Even Kosh is mentioned in here – and I wouldn't want to see Kosh angry. And have you _seen_ what they say about _you_?" Sheridan flung an arm toward the stack with an expression of incredulity.

Londo sighed heavily, "If I believed everything I read in the Centauri diplomatic pouch, I would have the unfortunate distinction of being the most gullible Centauri having lived." He glanced at the papers with a smug smile, but his expression turned pained as his gaze caught the written words. "_Great Maker_," he exclaimed as he leafed through the pages, his eyes narrowing, a permanent frown forming.

"Mollari!" G'Kar strode into Sheridan's office, interrupting the conversation. "You!" He stuck a finger in Londo's chest, snarling. "It's all over the station that you are spreading lies and rumors, just like a Centauri!"

Londo pursed his lips, keeping a tight grip on the files. "And you are barreling in here with the breath and manners of a wild animal, just like a Narn."

"I'm warning you," G'Kar leaned toward the Centauri ominously, forcing Zack Allan to step between them.

"All right," Sheridan put up a hand to defuse the situation. "As much as it pains me to say, and despite the questionable content of these files, the Centauri have claimed they fall under the immunity of the diplomatic pouch, and there's nothing I can do about it, Ambassador G'Kar."

G'Kar howled with rage, lunging for Mollari as Zack restrained him.

Sheridan looked at Mollari and jerked his head toward the door, "Take your files, Ambassador," he said. "You'd better hope they never fall into the wrong hands. This is how intergalactic wars start."

Mollari glanced at the enraged Narn still being held by Allan and turned on his heel, wisely heading for his ambassadorial suite at a clipped pace.

* * *

"There," Londo threw the files down on the table next to Vir. "I got them back. You see?" He sighed deeply, sitting down as he rubbed his temples.

Vir smiled with relief, "You don't know how relieved I am to see them again."

Londo shook his head, "You have digital copies, yes?"

Vir nodded weakly.

"Then you will immediately destroy these hard copies," Londo instructed. "And the digital files you will encrypt under my records. Use a triple cipher. Entitle it – eh – 'The Purple Files.' The gods help us if anyone else reads anymore of these files. Scandalous is an overused word these days, but it is entirely appropriate when applied," he tapped the pages, "to this. You have no idea what this could set in motion."

Vir bowed his head, "I'll get right on it."

"Vir," Londo said sternly, shaking a finger at him. "What you do on your own time is your own business, but it is also the business of the Centauri Republic. Now whether you are reading or writing this—eh—what did you call it?"

"Fanfiction," Vir said meekly.

"Yes, _fanfiction_," Londo repeated with annoyance. "Whether you are reading it or writing it, not everyone on this station appreciates the emphasis of the word, _fiction_. Now, I have enough rumors to worry about on this station and enough knives to worry about on Centauri Prime – I would appreciate it in future if you would _refrain_ from encouraging both rumors and knives."

Vir clutched the files to his chest with relief. "Of course." Vir gazed at the files fondly before looking up with a smile, "And thank you."

Londo patted his aide amicably on the shoulder with a smile before disappearing into the other room, leaving Vir alone with the files.


End file.
